The bell rang. Ms. Marzipan waved her baton and began herding us back inside. I plopped down on the merry-go-round and took off my shoe. I tried to scrape the gum off with a stick, but the stick broke.
Ms. Marzipan walked toward me, and I wondered if I should ask to borrow her stick. I began to giggle. But then she pointed the baton straight at me and things turned serious.
“Young lady,” she began. Those two words are always a sign that something bad is coming. “Yesterday you accosted Boris with your musical instrument. And today you’re picking on him again. I’d watch my step if I were you.”
My mouth fell open. This time no words came out.
